


fire beneath your fingers

by mirabilis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, College, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Rimming, Shameless Smut, improper use of birthday cake, me waxing poetry about how beautiful Oikawa is for Iwaizumi's birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 19:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19179982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirabilis/pseuds/mirabilis
Summary: The fire beneath his fingers that can burn him. It’s always the fire, it burns him, turns him to ash, skinning him alive. Oikawa’s touch is the fire that swallows him, with his choppy and snide comments, he kisses those away and he’s left with the bones that create the boy in front of him.Oikawa is the fire that crawls up his skin, leaving dry and broken. He’s the one that breaks the walls, before building up his own.





	fire beneath your fingers

**Author's Note:**

> happy late birthday Iwaizumi! this fic is because I have no self-control! enjoy =0 forgive i have sinned, bath me in holy water...

Hajime always liked the taste of Oikawa. The way he slides beneath him, the force of his graceful body degrading under him. He craved to touch him, to draw him closer and closer to him, until he steals his breath away. Soft doe eyes that melt like liquid candy, causing him to sink further, more than he has ever before. Maybe Hajime was going insane, but it felt as Oikawa was driving him crazier as the days go by.

As his birthday grew closer, he got more distant. It began one night after Hajime unmercifully finger fucked him until he was begging for more. Usually after sex, Oikawa does the honors of annoying the shit out of him, but instead, he rolled over and fell asleep. _“I’m too tired Iwa-chan, wake me up later!”_ he whined before his breathing became steady and he cradled himself into Hajime’s arm.

He was turning 21 for christ’s sake, nothing big about it. Though his friends enjoyed taunting him with old man jokes and reasonless jests just to rile him up. Sometimes when they’d go out, Oikawa had the nerve to join in but with one swift glare, he shuts up immediately and all of them whisper a mere _‘whipped’._ If anything, Hajime had to correct them over his dead body he’d ever say this, but it’s really him who’s completely submissive to Oikawa. With his gooey eyes that can harden and in a split second make either of them tremble in fear. It’s Oikawa who while is the one withering and gasping from his touches, Hajime can hear the commands with every kiss, every tug guiding them.

They’re in college now, both have their own friends. Oikawa’s been surrounded by a group of them no matter where he goes. Someone’s bound to follow, he’s the leader, outside of the bedroom it’s Oikawa that conquers all, but Hajime is the one take the reigns inside. Unless the boy has a few tricks up his sleeve that he doesn’t see coming than Hajime dominates him. He wants to crush his pride or his conviction. Hajime learns how quickly Oikawa can turn to putty, how his defenses fall and below Hajime lies a mess. Perfection how spotless that with one measly imprint, it shatters.

But when he reaches to clasp his hands together, they’re hot, and as they glide along his stomach, his desire to let out all his words and longing heavies. Oikawa would throw him the same humorous cheeky smile that tells him, _I’m winning_. Then Hajime thrusts into him like he’s the only person in the world that matters because he is: but he always really wants him to be quiet.

The fire beneath his fingers that can burn him. It’s always the fire, it burns him, turns him to ash, skinning him alive. Oikawa’s touch is the fire that swallows him, with his choppy and snide comments, he kisses those away and he’s left with the bones that create the boy in front of him.

Oikawa is the fire that crawls up his skin, leaving dry and broken. He’s the one that breaks the walls, before building up his own.

He can stare at him any more before he’d combust. Oikawa is confident, he knows what he wants, and how to get it. Whereas Hajime eagerness only falls for him, he’s always following behind him. Ever since they were kids, Oikawa might’ve been the fragile weakling that liked to cry on Hajime’s shoulder, with scrapes and bumps as he mindlessly cried and cried. Sure he grew out of that phase, but he had a tendency to enjoy watching him cry. He always called him out for his ugly tears, but truthfully, he wanted to lick the tears that poured from his eyes. To be the one who gets him boneless and weak, rather than tasteless words.

These days, he hasn’t seen much of him recently, with volleyball season over, college strictly was to focus on homework. Though half of the time he’s too distracted with Oikawa hanging around the apartment when he should very well be studying in the library.

 _“But I want you Iwa-chan!”_ he would insist on in his beat-driven voice, making Hajime drop his pencil, and gave him a sloppy handjob with Oikawa leaning against his shoulder, muffling low moans, biting into his shoulder.

What a brat.

That was days ago since then he hasn’t asked much or bothered him for more than a kiss. Which is concerning, because it’s in Oikawa’s blood to be a little shit to Hajime. He wonders if he’s avoiding him, by the time his birthday rolls in, his phone is pinging with messages and voicemails. He’s spent most of his day lazily sitting around while Oikawa has classes. Fortunately, their schedules don’t always correspond so he’s only able to catch him either early in the morning or late at night. But the emptiness of his heart is probably because of the loneliness inside. Hanamaki and Matsukawa both stopped by to give him his presents, and when he asked about the whereabouts of Oikawa, he got the crummiest response ever:

“You’ll just have to see for yourself!” before waving their stupid arms in a wave and leaving.

God, why’d he had to have them as best friends? Throwing himself back into the chair, he flips on the tv, pausing through the channels. He didn’t feel 21, that’s for sure. He’s finished all his classes for the day, and it’s getting darker by the minute. Where the hell is Oikawa? The door’s lock unhinges, as he hears footsteps behind him enter. About damn time, and he turns to give a piece of his mind. But he stops when there’s Oikawa breathless and a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.

He still never fails to make him breathless.

Slugging off his shoes at the entrance he says, “honey, I’m home!” without a care in the world.  
  
“You’re late.” he says, and Oikawa’s lilting smile transforms into something else.

The plastic bag in his hand is set on the counter, and he dives straight for Hajime. With his back once leaned against the cabinet, he grips the counter as Oikawa slides his tongue into his mouth. It’s a bold move and catches him off guard as his arms fly to secure his balance.

“Hey, what in the..” he mouths around his hot mouth, pushing and prodding as he groans, yields under him.

It’s one of those moments, where Oikawa is the one leading them. He supposes it’s fine, it’s his birthday after all. And grips his chin, pulling him even closer. “I’m giving you your birthday present now,” he whispers, and Hajime numbly nods.

Crouching on his knees, he grabs the bag from the counter. Opening it reveals the sweet smell of cake, decorated with illegible handwriting, the scent of strawberries wafting. It must be freshly baked as his stomach grumbles.

“Hungry?” he asks, and Hajime scowls.

Easily, Oikawa takes off his shirt, his hands lingering too long before throwing it behind him. His mouth waters, not because of the cake but because of him. He never gets sick of his smooth, shiny pale skin. He reaches out to follow the hollow of his breastbone, as Oikawa sucks in his breath. There are no lights inside, and he might trip over the carpet in the next minute or so if he’s not careful. His nipples gleam under the moonlight, as Oikawa restrains him, uplifting the fold underneath the cake. He takes a spoonful of the cake, spreading the icing over his chest. God, he really wanted to play, didn’t he?

Pushing him back, straddles on both sides of his hips. Unbuttoning his own shirt, fingers shake in excitement. It’s just as he wished, Oikawa alive in his hands, ready to explode. The bulge pressed against his pants, and he wants to devour him. Kissing him until his lips ring, he moves down, transferring his weight onto his hips, wet sloppy kisses against his ribs. He can taste the sugar on his lips and he licks his lips. Moistening his lips, he moves his tongue around his stomach, and Oikawa curls into the dip.

“Sweet,” he mumbled into his body, the taste of sweat trailing down, and he grins.

Oikawa is clearly enjoying this, being devoured and eaten alive. His skin is hot to the core, and when he grinds his palm in his hair it’s a sign. Lifting his head, Hajime kisses gently the bone that curved its way into his jeans. He nudges for him to move his legs up, as he unbuckles his pants. His cock flush against the waistband of his underwear, he kisses the head of it making Oikawa hiss.

He loved the taste of him, as he takes it out, pre-come falling out from the top and he notices Oikawa’s arm across his face as he bows over to bite his earlobe, pinching it in his grasp. Slowly his will falters as they impishly crash to his sides. Taking him into his mouth, a loud moan escapes from mouth, the mix of strawberries and the thick of him wash up, and he licks one side of his cock.

As he bobs his head up and down, Oikawa finds the time to wrap his legs around him. Hugging him tighter, he tastes like fire, as his hand's muse around his hair, tugging it around to get the feel of him around his cock. It’s amazing how hopeless Oikawa gets. He wants to savor the moment, bending him to his will. The racing adrenaline flows inside of him, a spark of lust dusting over Oikawa’s dark eyes. More, they whisper and Hajime obliges. He lightly dances around the tip of his cock, craving to taste all of him. It’s driving him crazy, seeing him like this. Cheeks flush, pink near his ears, is he embarrassed? He grins again, sucking him off until Oikawa cries out madly, and he stops with a sudden ‘POP’.

“Why’d you stop?” his voice rough, and he slithers his hand to finish it off but he slaps his hand away.

“It’s my birthday remember, I can do what I want,” he growls, and Oikawa twitches in dismissal. “Turn around.” he gets on his knees, slipping off of his legs and almost his falls weakened. Oikawa turns around, face smashing against the floor, ass perked up high. He wants to see his face, but this will have to do.

The cake lies a few centimeters beside them and he scoops a chunk caressing the trail of his spine, cake sticking to the dewy parts of his skin. Hajime proceeds to carefully lap at the frosting as Oikawa withers beneath him, fire reeking from his body. He’s hot, scorching to ever last particle of his fingers that break apart his jaw, curling his fingers as he sucks on the heavily frosted finger. His cock rock hard and untended whines as it presses against his thighs.

“Feeling a bit neglected?” Oikawa has the courage to croak, voice hoarse and his fingers crawl deeper, leaving each one burning for another touch.

Without a word, he pushes his ass apart, sliding his fingers out his mouth as Oikawa whines in protest. His tongue flicks around, clenching around him at first. He dives in, thrusting his mouth inside to rip him apart. The inhumane growl that erupts from Oikawa, painfully causes him to stop. But he continues, teasing him, squeezes his left as to steady him when he feels as he’s going to crash.

The rug folds as Oikawa scratches the floor, pawing at anything to hold onto. Their hands search for each other, and he travels to kiss the flesh that taunts him, circling palmy hot bruises, the size of his pinky on the inside of his thighs. He surges forward, the other hand licking across him. Tightening he lets go, and Oikawa whines, feeling deprived of the warmth Hajime had provided him with.

His eyes are glossy and shining as he flips him over, taking him all in. he’s beautiful, and praising him would never suffice of how much he loves him. So he grabs the condom from the left cabinet and Oikawa bashfully smiles.

“You keep them there, why was I not told of this?”

Hajime fumbles, his concentration broken, “Ummm, I just-” and thankfully Oikawa shuts him up for the first time before can say anything else.

Rolling the condom, he pushes his throbbing cock out, aligning himself in front of Oikawa. There he laid there and he wanted to capture the moment forever. In the dark of the night, he can search for him and Hajime will be satisfied to know who’s right next to him. There’s the glory is his eyes, an electric press as he kisses him softly before entering. He wants him, wants him so badly. He can feel the fire that beats inside their hearts. But Oikawa is the real fire, thrusting around him.

Sweat falling at his jaw, hair fanned out on the floor. His arms tiredly hung limply on the ground as Hajime stretches his hand out. He’s warm, a kindling fire now, a raging storm that Hajime aimlessly will follow in a heartbeat. His heartbeat is fast, thundering against his chest, he knows the sculpture of his body like the back of his hand. Snapping his hips he pines to find him again. Oikawa’s mumbling curses, but he knows better. He could hear him hiss and glare at him with hungry eyes.

_Give me more Hajime._

When he first thrusts, he’s almost hesitant, mercy peeling off his skin. His goal wasn’t to break Oikawa all in one try, but to slowly cause him to fall apart. Pushing pants past his ankles, he digs into his shoulder and Hajime withholds his shudder. But with one nod, he moves faster. Maintaining the same pace until Oikawa says otherwise. He’s growing desperate.

“move, and don’t you dare disappoint me, Hajime,” he grunts, and Hajime picks up the rhythm.

“Ok.” it’s a silent prayer from him that he’s heard before when he fucked with one finger at a time, a mantra of pleads, that’s he’s desperate as Hajime is.

He slams into him with brute force, no time to waste. As Oikawa cries and whimpers, nails breaking at his back, greedy to sway him. To please him, to mold Hajime to his disposition. Throwing back his head, he scratches and skims butterfly strokes over his arms. With a gluttonous smile, he holds it while his cock is coming with hot liquid. It splashes his chest and Hajime continues to ride out the orgasm.

Bruises lined up in a row where he eats him alive, red and hot, just the fire that undulates through them. As he comes, Oikawa lets go and Hajime slides out him. A wimpish wail exits his mouth, and his own legs feel like jelly. His skin bitten and sluggish of remaining icing and crumbs of cake. Hajime’s back hurts like a bitch and he’s suspicious of Oikawa’s sheepish grin that rarely places itself on his face.

“Are you okay?” his voice catches in his throat, raw and he coughs, whipping his head away.

A gentle kiss against the shell of his ear, as Oikawa kisses him once more below his jaw. Sneaking in daring kisses, he rakes his hair, sweaty and shimmering from the moon’s only source of light.

“Happy birthday Hajime.”

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ibreatheakaashi)


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